


The Little That Remains

by Violsva



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/M, Fake Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Polyamory, Reichenbach Falls, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow, very sincerely yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little That Remains

**Author's Note:**

> So I got Holmes some utter misery for his birthday. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to [consultingpiskies](http://consultingpiskies.tumblr.com).

I felt terrible for Mary.

She had been away. I had hoped for something, something foolish and dangerous and likely to hurt them both even more – but I had hoped, nonetheless. But she had been away, and I had spirited Watson off to the Continent, and denied both of us the opportunity for one last meeting.

And Watson would, most likely, return to the narrow brick house alone and -

Not what I should be thinking of, not when I was attempting to be cheerful. I should be giving him at least one last night to remember, in this unfamiliar bed in Switzerland, should events of the next day or week – surely it would not be long now – turn out as I fully expected them to.

When I had begun this crusade I had not thought it would come to this, but I wouldn’t have minded as much as I did now. I had been working frantically these last few months to prevent this, hardly seeing my beloveds, and yet here I was. Here _we_ were, Watson and I, he no doubt suspecting something from my behaviour no matter how calm I tried to act.

But all I could do was run my hands over his body and force myself to action, to pretence, wrapping my mouth around him and breathing him in and wanting, desperately, to hold on to him, to keep myself with him, just to be able to go back with him. It was too late, now.

I wished he had left me at Strasbourg, that I did not have to have him here now, at the last possible moment, in nearly as much danger as I was. I wished Mary were here with us. I wished I had found some other way out. I wished the damned London police had done their job properly. I wished I had any expectation that I would live through the week.

I choked, and spent inside him, and turned my face away that he might think the emotions I was hiding were a result of the orgasm. I doubted he believed it.

*

I found myself thinking that it would have been easier if I had died. I would not have to make this abominable choice.

Watson’s voice rang out below me, and my breath stopped in my chest. It must be now, if it was to happen.

But then Moriarty’s remaining generals would have only one target to aim at. I had hoped they had all been ensnared – the early reports had given me cause to believe it – but the papers that had reached us in Meringen had dashed that hope.

I had stood above the fall, staring into the rushing water, for far too long, wondering what to do, and then postponed the moment of decision by climbing out of sight. I could rejoin him. I could go back to London, solve my little problems, see him and Mary and -

And know that any day some tragedy might fall on me, and almost certainly on all three (four?) of us. And know that I would be the cause of their destruction.

I could leave Watson grieving for me, let him tell Mary I was dead, go on my own after the threats to us and keep them away from London at all costs. I would walk in mortal danger at every step, but they, distant and innocent, would not.

I could tell Watson. I should tell him – he, they, would never forgive me if I did not. But I knew him – I remembered his words before we crept into Milverton’s house. He could not be kept from my side, and I could not ever put him into such danger as I would face. And what of Mary, left alone in London, even more vulnerable than she would be with him?

She would glare at me for thinking of her as vulnerable, I knew, but still I could not leave her alone. And if I was right -

Of the three of us, I was best suited for solitude. And best suited to serve as bait in my own trap. I had accepted the consequences of my hunt weeks ago; they might be slightly changed, but I still accepted them.

Watson was still shouting for me. I lay on the narrow ledge, barely able to breathe, desperately wanting to shout back to him. He stopped at last, and gasped for breath, and no, I could not listen to him -

I let the roaring of the falls fill my ears, and hoped it kept my own harsh breaths from his.

*

The Rosenlaui Hotel was not the best choice in terms of disguise, but I could neither spare the thought to find another or imagine sleeping on the ground after a day like the one I had had. I fell onto the mattress and slept as if I did not have a pack of assassins after me.

I woke with grey light beginning to filter between the curtains, and stared at the ceiling. It was not too late to turn back. A mere twenty-four hours ago he had been -

I exited the hotel by a somewhat unorthodox method and started for Italy.

In Florence, warm for the season, I remembered Watson on a hot July day years before, coming in after an afternoon running errands, dropping his bags at the doorway, removing his tie and his cufflinks, rolling up his sleeves and undoing the first two buttons of his shirt, and sprawling on the sofa in waistcoat and trousers while I sat at my chemistry table and tried to think something other than _my god his chest his forearms_.

I remembered Mary, Mary whom I had had to leave London without seeing one last time, after months of seeing so little of either of them. I remembered her smiling at me over Watson’s shoulder and asking whether my suspect was married, and the solution appearing in my mind, and feeling as if I saw her for the first time, with Watson between us beginning to smile as well. Watson between us, as he had been at other times as well -

They were safe, I thought savagely. Both of them were safe, now that I knew Moran was after me, and me alone. They were safe, and together, the best possible outcome I could wrestle out of this situation.

And I was dead to the world, and no longer theirs, and they could not be important to the man I must create here.


End file.
